The Boy (and Girl) with the Voice
by Czechm8
Summary: Edward Torres, Mitchie's younger brother, searches for a girl with the voice of an angel and deals with the consequences of Mitchie's lie. Based off of the movie. Barron James, Sander Lawyer, and Andy get a bigger role.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Edward Torres's P.O.V.

"Mitchie! Up! Last day of school," Connie, our mother, cried from downstairs, where she would be in the kitchen at this hour.

Already up and knowing Connie wanted me downstairs, I stood up from the Lotus position and checked my room one final time. Everything was good. I grabbed the songwriting book and pencil that I kept on my desk and headed downstairs.

My name is Edward Torres and Mitchie was my older sister. I had brown eyes, short brown hair that some thought made me handsome, and serious singing skills. I was so skilled, I was in a Madrigal in our choir program. However, my sister had serious songwriting skills due to several years of practice. Myself, I began songwriting in late May.

It was the 22nd of May and I had finally garnered up the courage to ask the popular girl, Mary Mcada if we could hang out and get to know each other.

"You look familiar," Mary commented, trying to recall how she knew me. "You're Mitchie's brother, right."

I smiled, pleased. "That's right."

"I love your sister's songs. **I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now**." Mary sang, "I'll tell you what. Write me a song. If I like it, I'll give you a chance to hang out with me. If I don't like it…."

She left that sentence hanging. I embarrassingly admitted that I didn't write songs and didn't know how.

Mary grinned and challenged me. "I guess now is a good time to learn. I'll give you until the end of the week, that's three days, to write a song. When you finish, meet me in the music room. I'll be there from 3:00 to 3:45 this week." With those last words, she left for her next class.

When I got home that day, I explained my situation to Mitchie and asked her for some pointers on how to write a good song. She happily revealed that good songs have 3 common characteristics; a memorable chorus; verses that tell a story; and a strong run in, the line or lines before the chorus. So basically the whole song.

With that information handy, I managed to create my first song, Keep The Light Shining. Three days later, I met Mary Mcada in the music room and sung her my new production. To my delight, she loved it. She urged me to continue writing songs and we set up a date to meet.

As of present, the two of us had only hung out a few times, but I learned violin practice and swim team took up most of her after curricular activities. I hoped to see her at school today for the release of student grades.

Once downstairs, I washed up and sat down at my seat. Right in front of me was a huge buffet. Omelet. Pancakes. Ham. Syrup. Orange juice. Blueberries. Toast. Strawberries. Sausage.

"This is a lot of food," I exclaimed in surprise, my eyes scanning back and forth.

"Maybe we can use some for leftovers tomorrow." Mom hinted. I looked at her and silently asked whether or not we were going to Camp Rock. She shook her head and I nodded, slightly disappointed. There was a money issue due to Dad's hardware store and her catering business expanding, and it was bad enough that we wouldn't be able to go to my sisters dream camp this summer.

I chose to distract myself by grabbing some food. Minutes later, Mitchie sat herself down at the table.

Mitchie Torres, my beautiful sister, stood 5'2" and had caring brown eyes and long brown hair that fell down her back. She was always happy and enjoyed music-singing her original songs in her room or shower, or playing pop tunes on her piano/guitar. Even though she had a great voice, she was only comfortable singing in the presence of those she knew. She probably could have been a Madrigal if she wasn't so shy.

Midway through breakfast, Mitchie noticed the time on the clock. "Hot Tunes is on. Turn it up please."

Mom grabbed the remote from the island nearby and turned the volume up so we could all hear.

"I'm here outside Connect 3's studio where just minutes ago pop star Shane Grey just stormed off the set of their band's latest music video, **Dateless**. Sources say he is refusing to cooperate with Film Studios. This latest outburst is part of a string of non-deals that has cost the company millions of dollars. Hopefully, this bad boy can clean up his act. I'm Linda Woods here on Hot Tunes," the announcer relayed through the microphone.

Mom muted the television and turned back towards Mitchie. She whispered, "What's wrong with that kid. He has everything!"

"Except a clue," Mitchie fired back equally as confused. An awkward silence filled the room before Mitchie asked, "Are we going to be able to go to Camp Rock this year?"

Mitchie had been begging Mom to find a way for her to go to this camp this summer. The timing was terrible, but she had promised that they would try and find a way.

"We tried, but no. We can't. With my catering business going through the roof and Dad's hardware store expanding…..I'm sorry."

"I know." Mitchie mumbled, clearly disappointed, "Gotta go. Don't want to be late." She then excused herself, leaving her plate on the table. Minutes later I could hear her crying in her room.

'This is going to be a long summer' I thought.

* * *

I was in the middle of cleaning out my school locker for the end of the year when Mary Mcada came up to me.

"Hey. Have you seen Mitchie today? She seemed kind of upset when I saw her. Do you know why?" Mary asked.

I nodded grimly and explained to Mary that Mitchie had been wishing to go to Camp Rock this summer and that it couldn't be done this summer. "She was crying this morning. Music is her life. She takes piano and guitar lessons on top of songwriting and private vocal lessons."

"I can understand why she'd be upset." Mary related, "But you're not? I'd be jumping at the bit to have The Mr. Brown look at my songs."

"Right now, I'm not." I admitted, "I never really gave it much thought. I kind of always had a feeling that we'd not be able to go this year. Besides, my summer plans were hanging out with you and posting any new songs on YT."

"Well as much as I'd enjoy your company, I'd rather you go. I'd love to be known as a friend of pop star Edward Torres."

I grinned, also liking the sound of that. Before I could comment, I was interrupted as the bell suddenly rang.

"I've got to get to class," Mary apologized, "Take care. Have a good summer and tell Mitchie I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it's like to be so close to having the summer of her dreams."

"Great lyrics."

"Pardon?"

"**I can't imagine what it's like to be/Missing out on the summer of your dreams/Being so close, but having your dreams slip away**…..**But there's a will, God will make a way."**

"Not bad," Mary admitted. She said goodbye and headed to her class.

After clearing out the rest of my locker and getting my final grades, straight A's, I boarded the bus and headed home to what I anticipated would be a long summer.

"Hey, Dad. Hey, Mom. Can I get a pizza for lunch?" I asked when I came home. Both Mom and Dad were out back beside the pool grilling hamburgers.

"I was making hamburgers," Dad explained, a little upset, "But if you'd like. You want the usual pepperoni?"

I nodded, thanking Dad for being flexible, and went upstairs to store my backpack and other end-of-year stuff in my room. After doing that, I came back down with my swimsuit, just in case, and my songwriting book and sat on one of the pool chairs.

'I already have those great lyrics that I heard and I've already got a theme, heartbreak,' I mused writing out the lyrics and theme for my song. I next wrote down some words associated with heartbreak. I fiddled around with lyrics for the next ten or fifteen minutes.

"**I can't imagine what it's like to be/Missing out on the summer of your dreams,**" I sang, "**Being so close but having your dreams slip away/What do you do when there are no words left to say."**

"**Except** **your pizza's here,**" a male voice sang in a similar melody. I looked up and saw the pizza boy carrying two boxes of pizza. He continued singing, "**Pepperoni and cheese. It will cost you 18.03 so pay up please.**"

"That was great man," I admitted, "You've got a nice voice and kudos on the original lyrics. I'll be back with a minute with your money."

I headed inside and told Dad the pizza was here. I also told him that I wanted to leave him a little tip. Dad pulled out a 20 and a 5 and handed it to me.

"That should be enough for pizza and a nice tip," Dad replied, handing me the money. I nodded and headed back out.

After tipping the pizza deliverer, I headed back in to wash up for pizza. Mitchie had come down and ate the pizza with us, but she was still upset about not being able to go to Camp Rock. After lunch, she made her way back to her room. I meanwhile headed back outside to continue writing the song.

I succeeded in writing the chorus and part of the second verse before deciding to have a long swim. By the time I got out, I was greeted by an empty downstairs floor. I searched around the house and found Mitchie in her room reading a book on music theory.

"Have you seen anyone recently? Where are Mom and Dad?" I asked, poking my head in her room.

Mitchie looked up from her book and replied, "They went out maybe 10 minutes ago to meet a client. I didn't ask questions. They said they didn't know when they would be back. What have you been up to?"

I decided to answer honestly and told her I was working on a new song and swimming. When Mitchie pressed for details on the song, I only told her I didn't know what the title was, but that I was trying to revolve the songs around lyrics I had decided at school. She thought it would be a challenge, putting music to lyrics that hadn't been written yet, until I explained to her that in the previous song I had written, the music came after the lyrics.

"Sounds backward to me, but you wrote a good song," Mitched admitted to my pleasure, "I guess being catchy could be an advantage to putting the lyrics first. Let me know when it's finished."

I promised Mitchie I would, leaving out the fact that it was about her heartbreak. I then waved goodbye to her and told her I would be in my room writing my Glee FanFic. I made my way to my room, changed out of my swimsuit and grabbed my laptop. I was in the middle of pounding out my Glee FanFic when I heard the front door slam and Connie cry out, "Mitchie! Edward! Come on down! We've got some good news."

Quickly saving my FanFic, I made my way downstairs slightly ahead of Mitchie.

Before either one of us could ask what the news was, Connie shouted the five words that would change Mitchie's life forever. "We're going to Camp Rock."

Mitchie let out a loud squeal and gave both parents a huge hug, repeating the words, "Thank you" Several times.

"That's great news," I interrupted, "It ruins some song lyrics….I'll explain later, but how? We didn't come in to any sudden wealth did we?"

"Unfortunately not," Dad replied, "But we were called into speak with Mr. Brown, the director of Camp Rock. He somehow heard about our situation. We talked things through and we, myself excluded, get to go to Camp at a discounted rate."

"You have to work in the kitchen, but congratulations. We're going to Camp Rock," Mom added. This was going to be a fun summer.

* * *

That's the end of our first chapter. Let me know what you guys think. I'm likely to continue it either way, but I would like your input. Lyrics belong to me, as well as the song, Keep the Light Shining, which may or may not appear by the end of the story. Chapter 2 is finished as well.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for those who favorited and followed this story. I appreciate the fact that you are interested in the plot. As for my one review, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter 2**

**Edward Torrezz's P.O.V.**

"Are we there yet," Mitchie cried excitedly from the back seat of Mom's catering van.

We, my sister Mitchie, my mom and I had been on the road for the last several hours and the closer we got, the more excited Mitchie and I became. Admittedly I was surprised to find myself reacting this way, having no disappointment earlier when it was announced yesterday that we would not be able to go this summer. I guess "Pop-star Torrezz" was responsible for my joy.

"Not yet, sweetie," Mom cried, not taking her eyes off the road, "But very soon. Maybe thirty more minutes until we reach the campsite."

Mitchie let out a groan, but settled back down and said okay. While we continued towards the campsite, I grabbed a Camp Rock brochure and peered through it, figuring out what I wanted to do at this camp.

'Piano? Not really. Dance and Hip-Hop? Sure. Drums? Maybe. Guitar? Maybe.' I mused continuing through the list of programs offered at the Camp.

Time flew by and before I knew it Mom exclaimed, "We're here!" She slowed down the van just enough so we could peer out the window. I did and pressed my face to the glass just like a kid does when there is candy on the other side. Except this candy was the bus full of musically inclined folks that had just pulled up.

The doors opened and out came an African American teenager of medium height and weight. He had green eyes and short combed black hair. He immediately began dancing. He gave out a fake hug and transitioned that into a spin and a bow towards the next person getting off, a tall female with an afro. The guy then turned back around and did some sort of sexy arm behind the head. He followed that up by dropping down into the vertical splits and shot back up in time to address the next person getting off with an arm wiggle. He looked pretty good.

"Whoa," Mitchie exclaimed. I followed her gaze and found a blonde female with a pop-star look get out from her ride, a long black limo.

"Definitely a pop-star," I muttered. Mitchie heard me and nodded.

Before I could go back to look at the dancing teenager, our van moved further into the campsite. Minutes later, we were parked and had entered our temporary cabin where we met Mr. Brown sitting in one of our chairs.

"Mr. Brown! What an honor!" I exclaimed, surprised by his presence.

"Thanks for the opportunity to have us, Mr. Brown." Connie added, "These are my kids, Edward and Mitchie-"

The three of us heard a slam and turned around to see Mitchie gone, her suitcase on the floor.

"Who's already out the door," Connie finished, feeling a little embarrassed about Mitchie's departure.

"It's fine love," Mr. Brown assured, his British accent very noticeable, "When the music calls, you've gotta answer." He then shot a grin at both of us. "Now, let's talk about your meal schedule."

Mr. Brown told us meals were at 7:00 a.m., 1:00 p.m., and 7:00 p.m. and that he suggested showing up at least an hour early, maybe even an hour and a half early to prepare. We both thought this was reasonable and agreed to his recommendation. Afterward, I asked, "I don't suppose you've assigned me my own cabin, have you?"

"Don't want to stay in a room with your mother and sister," Mr. Brown teased, "I understand. We have not assigned you a cabin, but I have some staff cabins available. I can take you there and we can have a look. If that's okay with your mom."

Mr. Brown cast a look at my mom, who nodded her head. She then added, "Of course. I didn't expect you to stay with me this whole summer. Go."

I beamed, thanked Mom, grabbed my suitcases, and followed Mr. Brown out the door. Shortly after losing my sense of direction from all the turns that we ended up taking, I saw a sign that read **Staff Cabins *** . .

"Finally, we've arrived," Mr. Brown announced, pointing me towards a series of cabins that stretched about 20 yards. They were all a gorgeous light brown and probably larger than the student cabins by a bit. It was more of a house than a cabin. They all had a window and deck in the back where one could watch the sunset over the lake.

"Damn. These are nice," I exclaimed, "Which ones can I pick?"

"Since we have other staff members in the buildings," Mr. Brown began, "We can offer you Cabin 1, 3, 5, or 12." He pointed towards the row of cabins with one being the one on the far left and twelve being the one on the far right. It didn't take me very long to decide I wanted cabin 3.

"I'll leave you to unpack," Mr. Brown promised, "If you hurry, you may be able to grab some leftovers from lunch before you start dinner." He let out a sly smile and bade me goodbye, heading back to our Mom's cabin.

Even though I felt as if I would get lost searching for the cafeteria, I decided to take Mr. Brown on that offer. We had breakfast at 4:30 and stopped for lunch at 10. Even though it was 4:30ish now, I wanted to eat. Partly to see what the food tasted like without Mom's expertise, and I have learned that you just don't prepare food on an empty stomach. Not without stealing some dinner for yourself.

I threw my bags on my bed and tried my best to find the cafeteria. I relied entirely on the signs that directed campers to the proper location, as I couldn't afford to get lost. While I was walking past the female cabins, on my way to the mess hall, I heard an angelic voice coming from the distance. Unfortunately, I only heard one line. **"My life ain't as perfect as it seems/Back home I'm picking up the pieces-"**

The voice stopped abruptly, to my disappointment for I thought there were more to the lyrics and that sounded like an original song. Storing the voice for later, I continued making my way to the cafeteria, passing an Ultimate Frisbee game that was going on. Unfortunately, those playing cried out to me, "Hey, you want to play? We need one extra person to make the teams even."

"Sorry. Maybe tomorrow," I shouted back, "I've going to get some food from the cafeteria. I'm starved."

"Cafeteria's closed," a male of about 6 feet tall with a nice looking set of braids cried, "You guys play without me. I'll help the new kid."

With a wave, the male jogged up the hill easily and walked up to me.

"I'm Andy," the male greeted, "Sorry the cafeteria's closed, but I've got plenty of treats in my cabin."

I decided to take Andy up on his offer primarily because I was hungry.

"How did you know I'm the new kid," I asked, "You've been here several years?"

Andy answered in the affirmative and told me he had been here for the past 5 summers and had tried all the courses they had to offer. He stuck with the drums, even playing me a short ratatat tat with a pair of sticks he kept in his back pocket.

After a short while, we arrived back at his cabin where luggage was set out for 1 person.

"Is it usually 1 person to a cabin," I asked curiously.

"No, it's usually two," Andy admitted, "But I guess we had an uneven number of campers or something, cause I am without a roommate."

"Now, what treats do you have," I asked, "I've got to help in the kitchen for dinner, so I'll be leaving around 6."

In response Andy led me to what was apparently his bed and reached underneath, pulling out a large box of food. There were protein balls, mini PB&J sandwiches, trail mix, all sorts of chips, energy bars, and even crackers. I didn't want to eat too much, so I grabbed some protein balls, trail mix, and 2 small bottles of water.

Andy and I took our time and chatted like old friends about high school, girls (he was unfortunately single), sports, and life goals. He was so easy to talk to, I was almost late for helping in the kitchen. I gathered my stuff, told Andy I would catch him at dinner and left. I was in the cafeteria about 10 minutes later.

"Hey, sweetie," Mom exclaimed in delight when she walked in to find me preparing hamburgers, "You're already here. How was your cabin?"

"Great. It's got a really sweat view," I answered, "I wandered the grounds, heard a beautiful female voice I hope to hear again, and met up with a guy named Andy. He seems nice and is a damn good drummer, which happens to be one of the instruments I want to pick up while I'm here. And Mitchie? Who is she rooming with?"

"She's rooming with me right now," Mom answered as she began rummaging around the kitchen, "But she will leave me by night's end in place of another roommate. That's for sure." Mom found what she was looking for, a can opener, and began opening up several pounds of stew.

While we were busy working, Mom with the stew and myself with the hamburgers, Mitchie wandered in around 6:20. She was late by Mr. Brown's standards but stepped up by grilling hotdogs, pouring ladles of stew into bowls, and making large amounts of Mac and Cheese.

A couple of minutes after 7:00, Mom promised she would take care of the rest of the food and told Mitchie and myself we could leave to get in line for Open Mic, whatever that was. We excitedly complied and made our way out to the large line in front of the cafeteria. There were only 25 people or so ahead of us, so we would get a good spot.

"So what is Open Mic," I asked Mitchie as we stood in line.

"Don't know," she admitted.

"It's a place where you can show your talent before Camp starts," a masculine voice from in front of us supplied. Ah.

"I won't be performing tonight at Open Mic," Mitchie directed to me, "Too nervous. Besides, I may take the time to look for a roommate."

"Same," I parroted before correcting myself, "Look for a roommate that is. I want to show off my talent. Hopefully find a girl I heard with the voice of an angel, as cliché as that sounds."

We stayed silent and crept forwards ever so slowly. By 7:45, Mitchie and I had gathered inside and were sitting alone at separate tables.

"You don't want to gather any food," a familiar voice asked from above me.

"Andy," I cried in surprise after looking up, "It's good to see you. I might get some later. Besides, I had some food at your place, remember? The hamburgers look good if you want them."

"Maybe," Andy answered noncommittally, "But I will recommend the hamburgers to my friends. Why don't you meet some of them?"

I shrugged and followed Andy over to a table where I saw that breakdancer from earlier, a tall African American with green eyes and black hair, a female Broadway singer with an afro, and two females dressed in a sparkling red body suit. I was told they were backup dancers for Lola Scott, the Broadway singer.

"This is my acquaintance, Edward Torrezz," Andy greeted. "It's his first year at Camp Rock."

"You got any talent," Lola asked.

"Well, I'm a good singer. I'm in the Madrigals Program in my school's choir," I began, "I'm told I'm an excellent songwriter who writes backward. I put the music to lyrics after I've written them**. That's about it though. This camp will be a great opportunity to pick up other instruments and try new activities. I really wanted to learn how to dance and play the drums."

Lola snorted and supplied, "You're in company. Barron Da James and Sander Lawyer love dancing and Andy's the best drummer I've ever heard of."

Barron Da James was the bus dancer while Sander Lawyer was the African American.

"Actually I think Nick Impellizerri, aka sticks, is better than me," Andy corrected.

"Dude, don't sell yourself short," Sander Lawyer cried.

Their argument was put to the side as I caught the name Torrezz.

"-Torrezz, the actor," a female voice asked.

"No. He owns a hardware store," I heard Mitchie reveal. Looking at the people she was talking to, I saw there were three. One blonde. One brunette. And another with black hair.

The three people turned away and were about to leave when Mitchie added, "But my mom…is the President of Hot Tunes TV in China."

I shook my head in disappointment. She had lied just to fit in with the popular crowd and it would likely come back to cost her. Not to mention, I might also be affected. This was going to be a long summer.

So, that's the end of the chapter. Apparently we did well in keeping the two chapters about the same length. I think the first chapter was slightly longer, but I'm not sure. Chapter 3 is a work in progress and will be posted sometime next year. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I'll update my profile when I get closer to posting it. I plan to have the entirety of our unknown females' song posted by the end of the story. Enjoy the holidays.

*The arrow I had pointing to the right did not transfer.

**That is how I actually write my songs. The music follows the lyrics I come up with. Do any songwriters care to comment on how they write songs?


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